Fanning the Flames
by Linwe Elendil
Summary: Jack's POV of the events in Out of Mind & Into the Fire. He's starting to see Carter in a whole new light. But it's just the drugs. Right? SJ, of course!


Disclaimer: Just a little something that popped in my head, and wouldn't leave me alone! I have no right to do this, so please don't sue.

Some bits and pieces of Jack's POV of the events in _Out of Mind _and _Into the Fire._ Includes minute spoilers for _Children of the Gods,_ _Solitudes_ and the movie. Like some of my other SG-1 work, I decided to post this before I threw it out. Not 100% happy with it, but I can't seem to put my finger on why. So, here you go! Feel free to rip it apart. I know I have...

* * *

The surge of electricity from the memory device jolted Jack out of his drugged stupor. For just a moment, he could think clearly. Until Dr. Raully came and injected something into him. Everything became blurry again as his body fought the drug. He'd never liked the sensation of heavy medication, and the folks from the future seemed a bit too fond of pushing the pharmaceuticals. A thick purple liquid was being pumped into him now, and he lay, unable to move. He tried to tell Trofsky he was tired of sleeping – hell, he'd had nearly 79 years worth – but he and the doctor had gone. Clenching his left hand, Jack grasped the tubes that snaked into him. He was determined to clear his head. Glancing down to make sure none of the liquid was getting into his system now, he closed his eyes and waited.

Sounds were the first thing he noticed. It sounded like Trofsky and Raully were having some sort of argument, but he couldn't understand what they were saying. He wondered if he was still sedated – until he heard the word "cree". _Oh, fer cryin' out loud,_ he thought, wincing._ For once, can't something be simple?_ His thoughts turned immediately to escape as he pulled the tubes from his chest. Glancing around surreptitiously, and seeing only one man in the room with him, Jack lay still and gave a wheezing cough. Knocking him out was easy enough, and Jack slipped into the man's medical uniform. It was his best chance of blending in as he explored the SGC for clues.

**xXx**

Jack stepped through the open door and found himself in a room identical to the one he had woken up in. Risking a glance around the corner, he caught a glimpse of Sam lying on the bed, a technician checking her vitals. Forcing down a sudden surge of elation, Jack glanced around for a weapon, his eyes finally resting on some canisters near the bed. He approached as softly as he could, praying the man wouldn't turn around. Lifting a canister from the floor, he judged it's weight and glanced at the technician. _This is gonna hurt,_ he thought, grimacing. Glad their situations weren't reversed, Jack cold-cocked him, reaching out quickly to throw the man's limp body to the floor.

"Carter?" he whispered, leaning over her. No response. "Carter!" She didn't move, and Jack disconnected the tubes from her shoulder. Somewhere in his mind he registered the softness of her skin, and his fingers remained brushing her arm as she stirred. "Carter," he said again, her eyes opening to find his. Shock registered in them, and she touched his arm, drawing a deep breath. "Shh," he warned, raising a finger to his lips.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered. He flashed her a wry smile as the memory device flared to life. Glancing at the screen, the Colonel saw one of his more painful memories play out for a moment before plucking the wire from the implant in her head, ending the show. "Whoa…" she said.

"Yeah. These things have a nasty habit of going off when you least expect them. Try not to think too much."

She was still confused. "They said –"

"They're Goa'uld, Carter," he interjected. Her eyes cleared, concern replacing the confusion.

"Daniel? Teal'c?"

"Don't know yet." He glanced down at her relatively still – and probably still weak – form. "Think you can walk?" She nodded and sat up. His eyes were drawn to her bare skin, and he tried to concentrate as she said something about naquada. He missed it entirely. Forcing errant thoughts from his mind, he nodded at the technician. "Trade clothes with that guy," he said, pushing down the part of his subconscious that insisted on reminding him that she didn't _have_ any clothes.

He walked swiftly from the room, pressing a hand to his forehead as he leaned against the wall. _Damn drugs,_ he thought. _Wonder exactly what they gave me. And how long it'll take to get it out of my system…_

When Sam came around the corner – fully dressed – the two started to explore the nearby rooms. "Sure looks like the SGC," Sam commented, until they reached the hallways of clearly Goa'uld design. "Wow," she said, "This looks just like –"

"Don't think about it – you'll set that thing off." Too late. As Sam hunched over and hissed in pain, Jack quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. Hearing footsteps, Jack dragged her bodily behind a pillar, holding her to him as he tucked them out of sight. To her credit, Sam managed not to scream, though Jack knew it hurt like hell. She even kept to her feet, something he hadn't been able to accomplish. When the enemy disappeared, Jack moved his hand off Carter's mouth, but left his arms where they were. She made no move to step away, and even kept one hand clamped on his arm.

"Can't we take these things off?" she whispered.

"I don't know – you tell me. Mine's in pretty deep."

"Yeah, you're right. Pulling them out might cause some nasty collateral damage."

_As in brain damage?_ he wondered. "Yeah… we don't want that," he said instead. The thought made his stomach turn, and he sucked in a quiet breath, inhaling a lungful of Carter's unique scent. This distracted him more than the softness of her skin, but common sense took over, throwing the words "court martial" in his face, and he let her go. He tried to forget how comfortable it was, holding her in his arms.

_Just the drugs,_ he told himself again, as they continued down the passage.

**xXx**

It was his worst fear. The only fate that could truly be more horrible than death. To have his mind – everything that made him who he was – ripped away by something so small and inconsequential as a snake. He was strapped in the pod, completely impotent, as it writhed over his chest, and Jack was unable to hide his revulsion. "Oh, God…" he prayed, fervently hoping the Big Guy Upstairs was listening. With a swift jerk of his head, Hathor cleared the way, and the nightmare began.

He felt the worm burrow into his brain – ripping, tearing, and repairing as it went. He thought he heard Carter's voice, but couldn't make out the words. She seemed to be there with him, bolstering his failing strength with her own. "You must fight it," she said, her voice distorted by a haze of pain. Whiteness surrounded him as he descended into an icy hell.

Limbs twitched – he didn't know under whose command. Memories flashed through his mind. Skaara… Sha're… Samantha… Reminders of the reason he had to resist. He felt the Goa'uld inside him encouraging his surrender. But surrender was something O'Neill would never do. The snake fed him more memories. His agony at Charlie's death. How willing he'd been to end it all. It was a dark place he had vowed he would never see again – one he had fought hard to keep at bay. The enemy encouraged him to give in to the shadows; told him that he would see Charlie again. But Jack recognized the lie and continued to struggle, unsure if he was himself, or it, or _us_. Frozen agony raced through his veins, and he could feel himself dying. He had to escape, to find shelter from the bitter cold. His near death in the Arctic – so close to home. There would be no timely rescue now. The cold forced him to retreat. Surely outside there was a more suitable place. Somewhere else that would serve as home. He felt something break loose in his head, and with the agony of one final tear, Jack was alone. He heard a faint hiss from the snake that had abandoned him, and he breathed a sigh of relief before passing out.

Seconds, minutes, hours, even days later – he couldn't be sure – Jack felt the rush of fresh air. "Colonel?" Warm hands touched his face. "I don't feel its presence. You're going to be all right." He dimly felt the removal of the strap that held him in the damned pod, but he couldn't summon the strength to move. Turning his head to the left, he saw something by his elbow. It was snake-like; curled in on itself. But it was pale grey and unmoving. Dead.

_Sam…_ he thought in relief. Sounds assaulted him then – a faint mechanical noise, Carter grunting in pain. A deep, sonorous voice. "We had hopes for you." Hathor. Jack stumbled to his feet, leaning on the stasis chamber as his eyes took in the scene. One second was all he needed. Lurching himself toward the Goa'uld, he threw down the hand bearing the ribbon device as he wrapped his other arm around her neck. "We will _destroy_ you for this!" she exclaimed, struggling. _You already gave it your best shot_, Jack thought. _Too late…_

All his fear and rage exploded out in that moment as he cried, "_We'd_ just like _you_ to _GO AWAY!_" Jack heaved with all the strength he had, and sent the malevolent being tumbling over the edge, and into the freezing, cryogenic gases. She disappeared with a scream as Jack leaned on the railing, shivering uncontrollably. Moaning from the floor brought him back to the present, and he fell to his knees, reaching for Sam.

"Carter!" he exclaimed, hauling her upright.

"Sir… What… what happened?" He stared into her confused, slightly unfocused eyes, and tried to hold onto what little remained of his self-control.

"Oh, God…" It snapped, and he threw his arms around Sam – holding onto her like a life-preserver. He still shook, but he was finally starting to feel warm again. "Hathor's… gone." He clenched his eyes against the terrors that beat through him.

"What about you?" she asked, grasping him just as tightly.

"Cold," he answered truthfully. "I'm a little chilly." He focused his thoughts on Sam to ward off the fear. "But… I'm me. I'm me." He said the last as a prayer of thanks.

"Colonel Makepeace came through with half a dozen SG teams to rescue us, but Trofsky's got us cut off from the Stargate. He's using an energy barrier." Jack knew he should be able to understand most of what she was saying, and did his best to pay attention. "It originates from somewhere in this facility. The plan is to blow it before General Hammond sends reinforcements." He let her go, keeping his hands on her shoulders.

"And… how do we plan to do that?" He forced his terror into a deep well. There would be time later to deal with it. Right now… it was time to go to work.

**xXx**

Hours later, back in the real SGC infirmary, Jack woke up screaming. He clawed at the back of his neck, his fingers brushing a bandage as Dr. Frasier ran up to his bedside.

"It's all right, Colonel. You're home. You're safe." She pried his hands off the dressing, doing a quick check to make sure he hadn't injured himself. "We did a CT while you were sleeping. There's no sign of the Goa'uld or its body." Jack looked up into her earnest eyes.

"Right…" He tried to keep what little remained of his dignity by throwing in a sarcastic remark. "I knew that." Janet flashed him a small smile.

"I could give you something to help you sleep. If you want to, that is…"

"Uh…" Jack ran a hand over his forehead, wiping away the sweat. "Sure." She pulled a syringe out of her pocket and injected it into his IV. "Got something that'll stop me from dreaming?" Her eyes were full of compassion as her hand squeezed his shoulder. After taking a moment to check his vitals, she left.

While waiting for the drugs to kick in, Jack snuck a glance at Carter. She lay facing him, her eyes closed. He watched her even breathing, the rhythm relaxing him. A peculiar warmth rushed through his chest again at the sight of the Captain, though he hadn't been cold. He took a moment to think, but couldn't seem to name the sensation. It wasn't pride – though he certainly couldn't ask for a better, stronger, or more capable second-in-command. It wasn't trust – though he'd placed his life in her hands numerous times already. And it wasn't the typical camaraderie he felt when sharing a meal with his team at the commissary. Prying his heavy eyelids open one more time – he didn't remember closing them – he caught a glimpse of Sam's blue eyes, and felt a surge in his heart. Then he knew. _You're falling in love with her,_ his subconscious taunted him, sounding annoyingly like Daniel. Black clouds swept across his vision as the medication took over. _Don't be ridiculous_, he replied, without enthusiasm. _She's my SIC. It would be stupid to risk a court martial by falling in love._ But the voice wasn't fooled. _I think it's too late, Jack,_ it said. The Colonel shook his head and let the darkness take him for the night.

_Still gotta get these damn drugs out of my system…_

It wouldn't be until late the next morning when he remembered.

_She was looking at me, too._

* * *

Couldn't help it! Just watched this with my roommate, and noticed all the little things I pointed out here. I really do think this is where he started to fall in love with Sam, and I wanted to share. Didn't really expect to write the struggle against the symbiote, though. That made me cringe…

Anyway, I hope you liked it! (Well, not the symbiote part. You know what I mean!)


End file.
